


in loving memory

by ikuzonos



Series: DR: TTNH Side Stories [2]
Category: DR: TTNH, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/F, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 12:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21410497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikuzonos/pseuds/ikuzonos
Summary: Ever since she was a child, Yumiko was blessed with a strange ability.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Tsutaya Yumiko/Yamura Saki
Series: DR: TTNH Side Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700629
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	in loving memory

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for CH2 of TTNH. For obvious reasons this isn't canon to it.

Water dripped down from the leaking pipeline in the attic, splattering on the stained pine floorboards. A few drops occasionally landed on the tattered piece of paper spread across the floor. Various flicks of paint surrounded the area around the paper; the page itself housing a myriad of vibrant primary colours.

It was easy for the girl, no older than six, to hum along with the faint buzz of the basement furnace, as it echoed through the mostly empty house. She was covered in paint splatters in various colours, acrylic and watercolour alike.

To the untrained eye, her painting was primarily abstract. However, it was clear to any educated mind that she had painted her and her grandfather, as well as an alien being eaten by a shark.

Her grandfather sat in the corner of the dark attic, chugging away on his pipe as he rocked back and forth in the old oak chair. Every so often, his weathered eyes fluttered shut, only to jerk back open.

“Hey, Gramps,” the girl said, sticking her tongue out slightly. “This look like you?”

She turned her painting towards him. Her grandfather adjusted his worn spectacles and squinted in order to make out the piece.

“I certainly see the resemblance… But that’s to be expected of the best artist in the world, my dear,” he said at last, smiling at her.

She giggled. “Thanks!”

He pointed a knobbly finger towards the picture. “May I ask about the alien?”

“That’s Mina. From school. She’s mean,” she frowned. “Saki’s the one eating her.”

Her grandfather chuckled. “I see. I understand everything now.” 

She opened her mouth to continue the conversation, when the creak of footsteps from behind the closed door broke into the air. She ran a hand through her loose blonde hair, just as her mother opened the door.

“Yumiko? What are you doing?” her mother frowned. “Why are you… sitting alone in the dark? And covered in paint, for that matter?”

Yumiko replied, “You told me not to paint on the kitchen floor anymore.”

Her mother sighed, “I… did say that. At least turn the lights on, dear. It’s so hard to see in here. And it’s so cold too… Are you alright?”

“Gramps says the light hurts his eyes,” Yumiko responded simply.

Her mother’s expression softened and she knelt down on the wooden panels. “I see. Is that him in your painting?”

Yumiko nodded. “D’you like it?”

“I love it,” her mother said quietly, brushing a tear away from her face. “I think we need to get you cleaned up, though. You’re a big mess!”

“No, I’m an artist,” Yumiko replied, jutting out her lower lip.

Her mother laughed. “Indeed you are.”

* * *

“I saw Dad last night.”

The windows were completely fogged up by the previous night’s frost. Sunlight barely shone into the kitchen, soft fractals distorting the warmth. Hot steam floated up from the two mugs sitting on the table; coffee, black, and chamomile tea with sugar.

Her mother slowly placed her hands around her mug, interlacing her fingers. She held the warmth for a few moments, but did not speak.

Yumiko bit her lip. “Mom? You heard me, right?” The only noise in the room came from her pounding heart, and the creaking of the pipes.

Her mother took a long sip from her tea, then said, “I did. I suppose it is that time of year again. Your father… what was he doing?”

Yumiko twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “Nothing really interesting. He was just… pacing the halls. Looked like he was thinking about something.”

“Did he tell you anything?” Her mother pressed softly.

Yumiko leaned back in her chair, looking very intently in the cracks in the linoleum floor. “That he loved me. And you. Asked if we were doing okay.”

Her mother wiped a tear from her eyes. “Sounds just like him… always thinking of us before himself.”

“I think I might visit him today,” Yumiko admitted, fidgeting in her seat. “We’re coming up on two years now.”

“I thought you were planning to spend the day with Saki?” Her mother questioned, tucking a loose whisp of slightly grey hair back into her messy bun.

Yumiko said, “She wouldn’t mind. She’s… really perfect.”

Her mother chuckled softly as Yumiko’s face began to warm.

* * *

Saki was waiting by the bus stop. Her cheeks were a soft pink in the early December air, and she seemed to be quivering in her snow boots. 

“Hey!” Yumiko called out, quickening her pace. As she did, she registered blood rushing through her limbs and subtly increasing her temperature. “I didn’t think you’d be here already.”

Saki turned her head and broke into a smile that could make flowers rise from the icy road. She caught Yumiko in a fierce hug, clamping her arms tight around her back and digging her gloved fingers into her coat.

“I missed you,” Saki murmured into her shoulder. They stayed still for a moment, caught in the warm embrace. Yumiko couldn’t think of a safer place than Saki’s arms.

Yumiko slowly edged out of her grip. “Missed you too, dork. Were you waiting long?”

Saki shook her head. “Only a couple minutes. I was trying to get here early anyways, so that we’d have more time before it gets dark.”

Yumiko glanced behind her, staring at the already low sun over the mountains, and nodded. “Makes sense. Um, I don’t know if you made any plans, but do you mind if I suggest something?”

“Hm?” Saki tilted her head. 

“I, uh… I wanted to stop at the graveyard,” Yumiko confessed, “I know that sounds really weird, and the next part is  _ weirder,  _ but… I think I saw my dad last night.”

Saki’s eyes flew open. “No way. I mean, I believe you! But that’s such a bizarre experience. Were you awake?”

“It wasn’t a dream, I swear. Completely real,” Yumiko insisted, biting on her lower lip. “I don’t really know what’s going on, but I think it might be because it’s late winter again, and…”

Saki reached out to take her hand and interlace their fingers. “I understand. I don’t think the graveyard is too off the beaten path anyways! I wanted to take you to that nice cafe on the corner of sixth.”

“That’s the one with the cats, right?” Yumiko asked, pulling the brown haired girl close to her side.

Saki beamed, “That’s the one.”

Yumiko leaned in, resting her head on Saki’s shoulder. With their arms wrapped together, the pair began traipsing through the dense snow like a duo of ungraceful fairies.

“I brought extra gloves, by the way,” Saki added, “Just in case your hands get cold later.”

Yumiko grinned, “Why would I need those? Your hands are warm enough, right? You’ll protect me.”

Saki giggled, “You’re so cute.”

* * *

The graveyard held only silence and cheap bouquets, but nonetheless, Yumiko found her father sitting on their sofa that evening, caught up watching an old football game.

She leaned on his ice cold shoulder, shivering only when he moved his arm to hold her tighter. Neither said a word, but neither felt the need to. 

They stayed in the same spot for hours, until Yumiko eventually fell asleep. When she awoke, she was completely alone on the creaky corduroy couch, and found herself missing the cold.

* * *

Dust covered the picture frames like a blanket of guilt. Yumiko brushed her feather duster over each one, coughing as the particles rushed directly for her lungs. 

With each uncovered photograph came a rush of quiet emotions. A white dress and a veil. A fireplace with stockings hung overhead. A thunderstorm. Yumiko gazed at the pictures for a few moments, before sighing softly and leaning against the cabinet.

Behind her, she could hear Saki solving the daily crossword puzzle, or at least, attempting to. Yumiko turned so that she could watch her peer over the newspaper with a pen in hand.

“Three across is cataclysm,” Saki said at last, her brows furrowed to the point that it should give her wrinkles.

Yumiko shuffled back to the kitchen table and sat down across from her. Taking Saki’s pen, she filled in the puzzle, pausing only once to double check her spelling.

“There!” she said, rolling the pen back. “How many words do you still need to figure out?”

Saki sighed, “Not too many, but I’m completely stumped on fourteen down.”

Yumiko squinted at the hint box.  _ ‘Someone who has passed on.’  _

“It’s a seven letter word,” Saki added, “Has the letter N in there somewhere.”

Yumiko shrugged and leaned backwards in her chair, taking a moment to take in the vision of her wife. In death, Saki no longer bore the stab wound that stole her life. Though she was only semi-corporal now, she retained every inch of beauty from when her heart still beat.

Saki noticed her long and silent stare. Sighing softly, she said, “Don’t you have to be at work soon? Please, don’t be late on my account. It’s just a crossword puzzle, in the end.”

Yumiko attempted to rest her hand on Saki’s arm. “I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. It’s really quiet when you’re not around.”

Saki ran a hand through her hair, struggling to keep a smile on her face. “Er… Yumiko? I’m sorry if this sounds mean, but I think… I think you should book another appointment with your therapist.”

Yumiko blinked. The sound of the turning ceiling fan became the only noise in the room for a long moment. She tilted her head. “Why? I’m feeling great. I haven’t been in such a good place in months. And you’re here with me!”

Saki bit her lip before waving her hand. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to bring that up so out of the blue… I guess I just worry about you too much.”

Yumiko grinned and leaned across the kitchen table to press her lips against Saki’s stone cold forehead. “You always have. Really, I’m fine! But… I really do appreciate your concern.”

Saki smiled, but traces of uncertainty remained in her eggshell blue eyes. Her gaze seemed to linger a little too long, like that of a searchlight. 

Yumiko snapped her fingers. “Oh! Fourteen down is phantom. You’re welcome!”

“My hero,” Saki said gently, “Have a safe day at work, Yumiko. I’ll be here when you get home tonight.”

Yumiko squeezed - or at least attempted to - Saki’s hand, then stood up and headed for the door. She quickly adorned her goose down coat and snow boots, before rushing outside into the cold air.

She looked back at the house once, peering through the slight frost on the windows, but she was unable to see her wife through the frozen particles.

Yumiko twisted the ring around her finger once, then sprinted for the train station.

* * *

Five in the evening came unreasonably late. As Yumiko exited the dreary office building, snowflakes cascaded down from the pitch black sky. She tugged her hood up and stuck her hands in her pockets.

Winter was the strangest time of the year. As she hurried towards the train station, it was easy to catch long glimpses of the people shuffling in the opposite direction.

Young children clung to the hands of parents, while old men and women floated behind them, hand in hand. Middle aged women carried translucent babies in their arms. Teenage boys would reach out for their friend’s shoulder, only to pass through them.

Yumiko could only watch, her heart pounding inside her throat. She dug her fingernails deep into the inner lining of her pockets, her eyes beginning to burn in the fierce wind. Yumiko slammed them shut and broke into a run, only even beginning to slow her pace when the train doors closed shut behind her.

The house was completely dark, casting long shadows across the entire street. Yumiko’s hands trembled as she fumbled to unlock the front door.

Saki hadn’t left any lights on. Yumiko frowned as she flicked a few switches, peering into every nook and cranny. Her stomach twisted like a washing machine. The house seemed to be hovering in time, floating on the cloud of misery that kept Saki perpetually twenty-one.

Yumiko’s lungs felt tight. Three years ago, she’d entered their living room to find a salty, scarlet spray covering the coffee table, and her wife’s eternal silence. Her fingers tightened as she poked her head inside.

Only dust, and thirty-six months of heartache.

To her great relief, Saki was sitting on their bed, her knees to her chest. Yumiko raced over and sat down beside her, hugging her tight.

“I was so scared,” Yumiko breathed, tears pricking in her eyes, “I thought I was about to lose you again.”

Saki didn’t reply for a minute. When she did, her voice was low and gravelly. “You need to take your medication again.”

Yumiko blinked. “Saki? Where… is that coming from? You know… you know that I won’t be able to see you anymore, right?”

Saki nodded, refusing to turn her head. “That’s exactly the point. Yumiko, you realize how selfish we’ve both been, right?”

Yumiko let her go and sat up, straightening her back. “I… I’m confused. I thought you wanted to stay here.”

“I do,” Saki said softly, “I want to stay and grow old with you, but that literally isn’t possible. You’re going to go grey, and I won’t age a day. And it’s not fair to you.”

Yumiko’s voice wavered. “What isn’t fair to me? I don’t want you to leave me. Saki, what’s going on?”

Saki finally looked her in the eyes, grabbing her hands. Icy jolts swam through her system. “Listen to yourself! You’re just going to wade in loneliness for the rest of your life if I stick around! You don’t talk to anyone!”

Yumiko flinched.

Saki’s voice immediately dropped back to a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“You’re right,” Yumiko croaked, her throat completely raw. “I keep trying to pretend that this whole mess never happened. I don’t want to lose you.”

Saki brushed a strand of hair out of Yumiko’s face. “I know. But… have you considered that I might be holding you back from caring about someone else? Maybe… maybe clinging to a spectre-“

Yumiko shook her head. “No way. I’ve known you for… for what feels like my whole life. There’s nobody in the world who could even begin to compare to you.”

Saki’s lip trembled. She was silent again, before throwing her arms around Yumiko. She could feel her body temperature begin to drop, but she pulled Saki closer, burying her face in her shoulder.

“You are the most important part of the universe,” Yumiko whispered, “And I know… I know it isn’t healthy to hold on like this… But I’m not ready. I don’t want you to go.”

Saki squeezed her shoulders. “I won’t. Not now.”

Neither of them said another word. The only sound in the room, besides the rumble of the furnace, was the unsteady thump of Yumiko’s heart. They clung to each other as the late night hours crept into morning, both dreading the moment in which they would have to let go.


End file.
